A Thing
by lostnovember96
Summary: I wrote a thing. Please enjoy said thing. I've never written a thing before. So I apologize for quality of said thing.


Somewhere in between dealing with a Potato and a broody sour-wolf with a dry sense of humor, I started wondering what my life is. The summer before senior year was coming to an end and all I had accomplished was playing "Pack Mom" to a bunch of overgrown children with emotional baggage and the largest overgrown child of them all, Derek Hale, whose own family was brutally murdered in a house fire set by the notorious Kate Argent. She was pretty much a super psycho who had no trouble sleeping at night after killing innocent children. It was interesting, really, that that very same woman's niece Allison Argent was a member of Derek's new pack. Speaking of pack and burned down homes, terrible segue I know, but that's where I am now, a flailing mass underneath the puppy dog weight of werewolf Isaac Lahey who decided to snuggle up to me in exchange for cookies. A loud squawk came out of my mouth, and Derek Hale, the supportive bastard that he is, just snorted and I could see the edges of his lips turn up in a smirk.

"Derek. Hale. You. Will. Get. Over. Here. And. Help. Me. Or. I. Swear. To. God. I. Will. Murder. You." I growl out in the most aggressive tone I can muster, although it didn't seem intimidating enough since it just caused another snort to come from the Alpha wolf. I rolled my eyes and managed to shove Isaac off as gently as I could, and brush the decaying ash from my skin. Derek really needed to buy a new house, or at least fix this one up. Pack meetings were a hassle when you have an ass-ton of were-teens to feed alongside growing humans. Derek would probably be happier not living in the shell of his childhood home, with his creepy uncle Peter who was a bucket of sass and a bunch of hyper teenagers who were literally so hungry they could eat a horse, or ten. But I won't push it, I'll let Derek decide on his own when he's sure what he wants. You can't force people to heal, that's just not how it works, no matter how nice it would be to have a new house, a den where the pack can grow. Its starting to get late, the sun having set already, and my dad texting and asking if I'll be home tonight. Derek steps over to where I'm standing and asks me to stop by tomorrow, his voice much more gentle than when we had first met, it was surprising how our relationship had gone from utter hate and distrust to one of mate standards. I chuckle softly and tell him I'll be here bright and early, with breakfast. His expression breaks into a smirk and I pat him on the shoulder as I exit the house, nearly tripping on my feet and face-planting into the side of my baby, my blue jeep who's been with me through werewolves and kanimas and crazy Peter Hale experiences. When I get home, Dad is sitting on the couch watching a rerun match on ESPN, and looking like he's about to start snoring any minute.

"Hey dad." I say as I walk softly into the living room as to not startle him. Oh, hey son, just getting back in?" He yawns and flicks the television off with the old gray remote.

"Yeah, had a pack meeting." I say, with a flail of limbs that I hope explains everything. My dad, the Sheriff, has been aware of the existence supernatural creatures since the start of Junior year, when he got caught up in a crazy case with some faeries, well, they were more like tiny spawn of Satan that ate human flesh and tried to lay eggs in corpses. It was all really morbid and not fun for anyone, especially me, since they kidnapped me and tried to eat me because I smelled nice. It was a disturbing point of my teenage years, and my father was called upon to save the day. Dad mumbled something about the night shift and stood up, grabbing his coat off the back of his chair.

I pat my dad on the shoulder and tell him to be careful and goodnight. I head upstairs to my room, locking the door and flopping down on my bed. I hear the window creak open not fifteen minutes later and I know everything is at peace, at least for the night. I look up to see the usual surly wolf with blue eyes that pierce the darkness of my room and he makes a rumble in his chest that reminds me of a purring cat, just more, y'know, growly. I roll over on my bed, closer to Derek and pull him by his jacket down onto the bed, where we curl into each other and the tension seeps from our bones. Moments like these are the best, the moments when we can escape the supernatural shitstorm known as Beacon Hills, the overprotective parents, we can lay to rest our pasts, and just lay together, mimicking each others soothing movements and lay in the dark, resting our eyes and trusting one another.


End file.
